Beyond the Screen Door

The door was propped open a crack, so I slipped past the rubber door sweep and stepped outside. The concrete of the porch felt coarse and cold under my feet, entirely different from the indoor floorboards. Right by the step, a crisp dried leaf stood balanced on its curled tip. I took four slow steps... and paused. A gentle breath of outdoor air drifted past, making the leaf sway. I leaned down and nudged its dry stem with my beak. It gave a faint, scratchy scrape against the stone and settled flat beside a weathered red brick. I sat right there, looking out into the wide open lawn.